Old woman is watching
Watching over you
in the darkness of the storm
she is watching
watching over you
weave and mend
weave and mend
Old Woman is watching
watching over you
with her bones become a loom
she is weaving
watching over us
weave and mend
golden circle
weave and mend
sacred sisters
weave and mend
I have been searching
lost
alone
I have been searching
for many years
I have ben searching
Old Woman
and I find her
in
myself
excerpt from “The Face of Old Women” by Anne Cameron
I attended a writer’s workshop near Seattle last week. I camped in a little tent in the middle of a beautiful forest. I was camping alone, but I didn’t feel lonely. The frogs of the nearby pond serenaded me nightly. I would lie each night in my tent beneath two huge old spruce trees and revel in their chorus. Here’s what I learned about frogs…
Frog timing is impeccable. Each night, one or two tiny frogs begin the frog chant and then another 2 or 3 will join in echoing the melody of the first perfectly. Then a third group joins, echoing the same melody. They join their voices and build a master symphony piece by piece, until their ultimate harmony rises and falls, undulating and echoing off the pond. Each masterpiece only lasts for one moment, maybe two. And then silence. Each serenade abruptly stops as if a maestro has cut the air with his baton to signal cease! Yet there is no maestro conductor on this pond. Only a few tiny green frogs magically harmonizing together.
At times, the nightly frog serenade would get so loud that I would literally have trouble thinking. But I was actually ok with that. Witnessing their creation up close was my compensation. It was fascinating to me that each frog sang out his piece of the symphony so loud and proud. I sensed zero hesitation and not an ounce of shame. One night as I listened to the symphony, I wondered to myself what I might learn from these little frogs. There had to be a reason my tent was positioned on the front row at this frog concert. It was too serendipitous to be an accident.
On my third night in the front row at frog symphony hall, I finally received the lesson frog was offering. I realized that I had been lying in my tent each night, debating with myself about how much of my story to write. I had been debating how much of me it was safe to share with the world. Meanwhile just outside, a tiny little frog sat on the muddy bank of a tiny little pond and bellowed out his song. He bellowed out his offering to the Gods with joy and gusto, night after night with little hesitation, Frog refused to be silent. He just belted out his creations for all the world to hear.
Frog didn’t waste time worrying about who was listening. He didn’t worry about what his audience would think of his song. He just sang his song night after night. He sang it with gusto. Maybe, just maybe I was lying there in a tent next to frog’s pond to receive a lesson in the art of expressing myself with joyful abandon?
Joyful abandon… I love the sound of that. Juicy green joyful abandon! I could definitely use more of that in my life. 🙂
—
A·ban·don əˈbandən/ noun – complete lack of inhibition or restraint
“There is nothing of significance that you can do by yourself. Sustained ehthusiasm brings into existance a wave of creative energy, and all you have to do the is ‘ride the wave’.” ~Elkhart Tolle
Every part of our Universeshifts and flows and creates with the energy of Tao, the energy of Source. The Tao is the energetic mother of all that is. This sacred flow thrums and buzzes with pure creative potential. And whether you realize it or not, this Source energy flows within you and connects you to all that is in every moment.
Creative Flow
Every life begins in an act of creative flow. The sperm of the male penetrates the egg of the female… or is it that the egg allows the sperm to enter? Either way, the result is a merging of two separate energies into a completely new human being. In a single magical instant, the egg of the mother and the sperm of the father flow together and create a juicy new being.
“Creating is the essence of life.” ~Julius Caesar
And the joyful dance of elemental flow continues as we grow in size and complexity; in just 9 short months we literally transform from a tiny single-cell into a juicy baby human with a multi-celled miracle body. Flow is the creative “magic” that drives our transformation from one cell into billions of cells working in synchrony as one body.
We are like waves dancing with the shore; at birth we rise up out of the Universal ocean of energy. Then we dance and flow our way through our days here on Earth, until it is time to fall back into the Universal depths. We rise and dance. We subside back into the ocean.
Life is meant to be a creative flowing dance.
Wired to Create
Every living being is wired to flow and sing with creation. Creative energies flow and drive this Universe. And creativityspontaneously flows whenever you connect with the Song of Soul within yourself. When you learn to align with this flow, you can create with grace and ease.
How much potent creative energy will coursethrough you if you dare to reconnect to the flow you were born with? When we open ourselves up to more flow, more and more Soul expresses joyfully and naturally in our life.
“Creativity is the mother of all energies, nurturer of your most alive self. It charges up every part of you. When you’re plugged in, a spontaneous combustion occurs that ‘artists’ don’t have a monopoly on.” ~Judith Orloff
Creative Soul
Connecting to the flow of Soul is wildly creative and joyful. It is also deeply healing.The word healing originated from the ancient Anglo-Saxon word “haelen” which means to be or become whole. Balance, resonate and heal are all words for the same concept.
In order to truly heal, we must reconnect to the deep yearnings of our Soul. True lasting healing is about transformation; digging in, and bringing flow of Soul to the surface. Healing happens naturally whenever we tap into the creative juice that flows through our core.
“Every creative act is also an act of healing.” ~Nancy Lankston
Last night it rained. This morning when I walked the dog, there was a scent in the air that took me a moment or two to place… Then suddenly I remembered; it is the smell of soil waking up, coming alive after its long sleep. It is the smell of spring.
Go outside and sniff the air. Do you smell it? Listen. Perhaps you can hear the gentle whispers? Mama earth is beginning to stir. All winter, she has quietly held the seeds of spring in her soil body; she has coddled them and kept them safe, waiting for the time to sprout. And now spring is almost here and the seeds are stirring, preparing to crack open and grow new life.
The chickadees know; they whistle to each other from every treetop in my neighborhood. My dog knows; she sniffs at the soil with new interest. And the sheep know; they birth their lambs in February, knowing spring is almost here. My Celtic ancestors celebrated Imbolc at the time of lamb birthing. It was their way of honoring the end of winter and the promise of life returning to the land. Modern man has turned Imbolc into Groundhog Day, but I personally prefer the celebratory air of ancient Imbolc.
It has been snowing and snowing here, even more than usual. And I had begun to worry that winter might decide to go on and on and on. But then, on a cold, wet day in February, I hear earth’s whispers and I get a whiff of her soil coming alive. It feels like I just received a message from a long lost lover. And I instantly know that the spring I crave is on its way back to me.
